Masked In Nobility: Secrets Of Mrs. Chavez

After Yvette left, Zachary’s demeanor shifted completely from his earlier fragile act. He lounged comfortably on the sofa, savoring a glass of red wine with a smug look on his face.

Lucas, returning after seeing Yvette out, couldn’t help but twitch at the sight. He wished Ms. Zeller could witness this scene.

Lucas said, “Mr. Chambers, Ms. Zeller has returned to campus.”

Zachary took another sip of his wine, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “Well, Lucas, age and experience have their perks. I knew Yvette would respond better to subtlety.”Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Lucas blinked, surprised. “So that last part… was intentional?”

Zachary nodded, chuckling slightly. He’d gone to great lengths, crafting this whole performance to set Yvette on a path to leadership.

His tone grew more serious as he turned to Lucas with a firm instruction. “Pass on a message to the Chambers Group’s executive team. Starting tomorrow, Yvette will be stepping in as acting head in my place.

“During this time, all decisions will go through her, and no one needs to report to me. She’s in charge.”

Lucas hesitated, a bit concerned. The senior executives were a tough, set–in–their–ways group who might resist the idea of Yvette’s sudden authority.

Lucas said, “Mr. Chambers, the top brass might not take kindly to Ms. Zeller’s sudden role. I worry they’ll make things difficult for her…”

Zachary shot him a knowing look. He had already anticipated this and saw it as a test for Yvette. After all, Yvette would eventually need to assert her authority and decide who among them was trustworthy.

This, he figured, was the perfect opportunity for her to handle things on her own.

And as for those old guys thinking they could bully his daughter, they should first see if they have what it takes.

“Don’t worry, Lucas. Do you really think they can handle Yvette? The most they’ll throw at her are some corporate power plays. And as for anything physical? Well, that would be their last mistake,” Zachary replied with a smirk.

“Announce her new position without any fuss. Everything’s in place,” he added.

Hearing this, Lucas felt a wave of relief. Mr. Chambers was absolutely right. With Ms. Zeller’s personality, she was always the one dishing it out; anyone who dared disrespect her would be in for quite the show.

Bus Route 1 was a direct line to Argrol University. Yvette had turned down Lucas’s offer to drive her, preferring to take the bus back to campus herself,

Sitting at the very back, she adjusted her baseball cap and checked Jeremiah’s message on her phone.

[How were the pork ribs? Better than mine?]

Yvette had a slight smile in her eyes, amused by Jeremiah’s odd sense of rivalry, even with the cafeteria lady.

Meanwhile, at Betrico’s First Military District, Jeremiah’s phone chimed as a soldier was mid–report. Jeremiah picked up his phone, and the room fell silent as the soldier hesitated. Jeremial gave a quick nod, prompting him to continue

Seeing Yvette’s reply (Not as good as yours.) Jeremiah’s cold and stern expression softened, and he typed back: [See you in three days.]

On Seacrity’s Route 1, Yvette stashed her phone and leaned her head against the window, watching the city pass by.

Suddenly, a shrill voice pierced through the quiet bus.

“Hey, young lady, don’t you know about respecting elders? I’m old enough to be your grandma, and you won’t give up your seat? How did your parents even raise you? No consideration for us seniors! Everyone here–don’t you agree she should stand up for me?”

The voice belonged to a sharp–featured woman, likely in her sixties, who stood over a young girl seated nearby. The frail and unassuming girl looked up helplessly as the older woman loomed over her.

This kind of scene–disputes over giving up seats–was all too familiar on the bus, so most passengers initially remained indifferent. But gradually, some began to weigh in.

“Young lady, why don’t you just give up your seat? Save us all this noise–it’s disturbing everyone.”

“Exactly, respecting elders is a virtue in Clusia. You look young, probably just graduated, maybe? You should know better.”

“Right, it’s just one seat. Just get up. Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Stop pretending you can’t hear us! Stand up and give her your seat.”

The young girl slowly looked up, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, yet she seemed to hold them back with all her strength.

Staring down at her lap, she whispered softly, “I’m sorry, I can’t give up the seat.”

Hearing this, the onlookers and the older woman grew even more agitated, showering her with sharper words that made the girl tremble as she gripped her bag tightly.

Just as the older woman raised her hand, ready to hit the girl, a tiny silver needle flew across the aisle, striking her wrist. The woman gasped, feeling a sharp pain that forced her hand to freeze mid–air. She looked down, only to find the needle had dropped to the floor–a small detail most passengers overlooked.

“Who says she has to give you her seat?”

The voice was cold and laced with authority, casting an icy chill over the bus that seemed to silence everyone.

Eyes darted around, searching for the source until they all looked toward the back row, where a girl in a baseball cap sat with only half her face visible under the brim.

The older woman glared at Yvette. “Who do you think you are? Butt out! Maybe you’re in on this with her. It’s called respecting your elders–it’s only right she gives up her seat!”

The passengers on the bus quickly split into two camps–one group siding with the elderly woman, the other opting to remain uninvolved. Clearly, Yvette, from the old woman’s perspective, did not seem as easy to bully as the other young girl.

“Oh, young lady, no one needs to make it a rule. It’s common decency! Respect for the elderly is something we all should uphold,” one woman insisted.

While another added, “You look young. Seems like people your age just don’t care about these things anymore. It’s disappointing.”

Yvette stepped forward, positioning herself between the young girl and the old woman.

Her gaze swept the crowd, her expression cold and unreadable. Oh, I see. You two over there care a lot about respect for elders, right? Why don’t you give up your seats for her?”

The old woman’s face lit up, forgetting about the pain in her arm as she looked over expectantly. The man and woman who had spoken up looked like they’d swallowed something bitter, clearly regretting their words.

Reluctantly, the man sighed and stood up, gesturing stiffly for the old lady to take his seat. He shot Yvette a glare as he moved aside, but she paid him no mind, her attention fixed elsewhere.

The old woman, pleased with herself, sat down with a satisfied smirk, oblivious to the fact that the effects of that needle jab would leave her unable to lift her arm for at least two weeks.

Yvette turned back to the young girl, who looked down and murmured softly, “Thank you.”

Yvette glanced at her left foot and replied calmly, “It’s nothing.”

The girl instinctively moved her left leg. They both remained silent all the way to the final stop at Argrol University.